Witches Way
by Jasper Lupione
Summary: All towns have their darker streets, and Bree is no exception. Deeta lives on Thumber Road, better known as Witches Way
1. Chapter 1

Bree was a small town, that was for sure, but even small towns have their dark sides. The streets where "respectable" people would never admit to going. The streets where young men found their fun at. The streets where you saw coins being discreetly passed under cloaks, and the streets where – for the right price – a dagger would flash discreetly, and a life would flash before darkening eyes.

And Thumber Road was on this side – Witches Way, it was called by those who scorned it. All the women worked on Witches Way, unless they were the truly irredeemable ones, those who would take whoever paid enough and spend it on herbs and powders that were not meant for humans. Witches Way was ruled by Mrs Glyfoird, an ugly old woman, but one who kept an eye on all of her girls and their purses. She was not from Bree – her black skin said as much – but she had been there for as long as the mind could look back. During the nights, while her girls leant from doorways into the street, she would sit on her stately old wood chair, like a queen surveying her kingdom, enthroned upon a balcony where her eyes missed nothing. She had the house at the top of the street, and her favourites worked at the closest houses. Those out of royal favour were left at the other end, forced to charge lower prices and work harder than the favoured ones. 2 or 3 girls, the youngest, most beautiful ones, worked in her own house, and ate, slept and trained under Mrs Glyfoird's watchful eyes. These were the girls allowed to entertain only one customer a night, who could dance and sing and were even given lessons and a hope of marrying a customer who was particularly enthralled with them. These were the girls who had plentiful supplies of the expensive herb that all the girls required – pennyroyal, diluted and with the bitter taste of the tears that were shed as it was taken. These were the girls who had doctors to watch over them, lest they take too much or too little. Every year, two or three of the less fortunate would die from the pennyroyal. Sometimes it was accidental.

Deeta was nearer to the higher end of the road than the bottom, a fact that she thanked the powers for daily. She was 5 doors away from Mrs Glyfoird, and shared a house with 3 others, all like her – Senna, Anya and Olo. Olo had 17 years to her name; Anya 26. Senna and Deeta were among the many who had been left with no Birth-Day, but Senna knew she must have had 20 or 21 winters, and they had guessed that Deeta was the youngest there, with 13 or 14 to her credit.

All of them were grateful to be in a house that got along so well, and one that didn't have to worry about money – Anya had a well-established reputation already, and the others, having gained business as a result, were on their way to getting them. While none in the house were well fed, they always had enough for two meals a day. The houses below them argued and fought, but strife in this house was not something that happened often, and if it did agreements and apologies of noble intentions were quickly made.

At night, each had her appointed place. Anya, with a face likened to that of the pictures of beautiful and noble Númenóreans, and beautiful dark waves of hair the colour of chestnut, had the left side of the balcony, where she sat, the first thing that men passing the house would see. Deeta was at the other side. This was often considered an unlucky draw, because most men were already looking at the other houses, but Deeta liked it, mostly because of the fresh air. An already tiny frame and lack of food had produced a figure elf-like in its slenderness, with masses of curly brown hair that exploded around eyes so dark and set in such pale skin as to be almost black. Normal 0 false false false EN-GB X-NONE X-NONE !-- /* Font Definitions */ font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ , , {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0cm; margin-right:0cm; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} 1 {page:Section1;} -- Her hair, usually so frizzy that it was more like a hat than hair, did not add to her beauty, and she knew that her features were slightly too large and her head slightly too small for her to be considered truly beautiful, but it all added to an ephemeral look. Some men preferred the girls at the bawdier end of the street, with the lower cut dresses, but Deeta earnt her keep from those who liked them young and delicate. Senna would lean on the door frame, and knew how much she could could charge a customer before he would take his business to other places. If a man requested Senna herself – Senna, with her beautiful dark red hair, that fell down to her hips and was so often braided into tiny plaits – then Olo, who otherwise sat in the window, would take her place. And if both of them were booked then the door was closed, and the men passing by would know that that house was surely well in demand. Olo had curly black hair, that fell in beautiful ringlets when it was let down, but mostly it was kept pinned to her head and secured by strings.

This night, however, Deeta almost wished she was inside. The wind was biting, and her clothes – vest, underskirt, tights, skirt, shirt and bodice – were cotton, and not warm in the slightest. Anya, at the other end of the balcony and wrapped warmly in a beautiful coat, glanced back, concerned, as coughs raced through Deeta's body. Deeta knew that if Anya had a choice, she would have gifted the coat to the younger girl, but the house couldn't afford to have Anya ill and not working. There were customers out there, but many of them were regulars, who hurried past, wrapped in coats and faces down, feet treading a path trodden many times before. Deeta had seen a man who she knew to be one of Olo's come in a few minutes before.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself and leaned back over the railings, shaking her hair over her shoulders till the curls whipped around her face in the wind. Scanning the men below, she spotted one of Anya's many regulars heading towards their door, tugging a smaller figure behind. A few minutes later, Senna's voice rang from inside, summoning them both in from the cold.

"An, it's Ferny for you, but he's brought his son, and it's his first time." Senna explained as she led the way down the narrow stairs. Deeta had guessed as much – many men considered it their duty to show their sons around Witches Way, if only to ensure that they didn't try and go there on their own and end up getting stabbed. They rounded the landing and Anya smiled at the man. "Hello, Bill." she purred, stepping round Senna to wrap an arm round Bill Ferny's waist. She was a completely different person whilst she was around customers, and whoever had taught her, had taught her well. Bill Ferny was a sneaking, skulky man, who always smelt of beer. His son obviously took after his mother, since he was a thin boy with cropped blonde hair, who seemed to be fading into the shadows behind him. He looked to be around Olo's age, maybe 16 or 17. His father clapped an arm around him and shoved him forward, into the light from the lantern. "Well, Barns." he asked stridently, "Which do you want?"

Bill leered at Senna and Deeta, standing on the stairs. He had visited both of them on the occasions when Anya had been indisposed, as well as Olo, and none of the occupants of the house had the slightest affection for the man. "That one," he pointed at Senna, who looked at the boy from under her eyelashes "is a classic, but that one," he nodded now at Deeta, standing behind Senna "ain't as delicate as she looks!" He laughed uproariously at his own wit, obviously drunk, and Senna and Deeta exchanged forced smiles.

The boy nodded at Deeta, who looked demurely down at the stairs. "That one." Bill looked at Senna.

"25 for Anya and 20 for Deeta." she told him. "Both of them have other customers due tonight."

Bill squeezed Anya's shoulder tightly towards him. "Nothing is too good for my Anya." he agreed. "But, considering my loyalty as a purchaser of your services, surely the girl...?"

"20." she told him firmly. He laughed again, looking slightly less pleased, but pulled out some coins and gave them to Senna. She smiled winningly at him, and led them up the stairs to the first floor, the "entertaining" floor. "You're costing me, boy!" he told his son, following Senna. Remember what I told you – don't be gentle, get what I paid for!" Deeta thought to herself that Bill was, if not a good man, at least a man who followed his own advice. After he had "purchased her services", she had had bruises up and down her arms for days. One of the doors was already closed, and Anya headed straight for the one on the far left, with a surety born of many former experiences. Letting the man in first, she shared a resigned look with the other two and closed the door. Anya was just as repulsed by the drunkard as the rest of the house.

Senna hurried back downstairs, hearing a man's voice, and Deeta turned to the boy – Barns – putting a smile on her face. "And where would sir like to go?" she asked him, her customer face firmly in place. He looked unsure, but strode for the room on the right. Deeta followed, trying to guess what the boy wanted. From the look of him, he needed to be told what to do, but she was still not as good at this guessing game as the others, and she'd been wrong in the past. Closing the door behind her, she turned. The boy was sitting on the bed. He looked a little scared, but when he realised that she had noticed, his face turned ugly, and he sneered at her. Standing up, he strode over to her and pulled her down onto the bed, seizing both arms and pinning them above her head. Deeta tried to look like she was enjoying the cruel treatment, and knew immediately that this boy was absolutely his father's son. He got his pleasure from power. His mouth met her with a rough force that would leave her lips swollen, and he knelt over her, forcing down her legs and hips, and leaving her unable to move. His lips removed themselves, and he sat back, sitting right on top of Deeta's hip bones. She made the sound that she knew men like this wanted to hear, a moan that was scared, but lustful at the same time, and the boy's hand found the top of her bodice buttons. He ripped them open – somewhere in Deeta's mind a voice said that she would have to add some to his bill for ruining her bodice – and then started on the shirt beneath. Her own hands, now free, undid his shirt, and he kicked off his shoes as he threw her shirt to one side, leaving Deeta in her skirt, underskirt, tights and breastband, and him in his breeches and presumably loincloth. Her fingers slid round the top of his breeches, and just below them, and he moaned with pleasure, throwing back his head. She tried to pull them down, but he would have to stand to do that. He rolled off her, and pulled them off himself, till he was in a simple loincloth, held by just a knot. Taking the opportunity to breath, she slid off her own shoes and tights, and then her underskirt, before he was on top of her again. She could feel him through his loincloth as he kissed her, sliding his hands down and round her back. Pushing himself up, he slid forward until his crotch was almost directly in her face, and she realised what he wanted. She made a move to get up, and pulled him gently so that she was kneeling on the floor and he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hands slid under his loincloth, and he shuddered, before pulling the knot that held them up himself and shoving himself into her mouth. Stopping herself shuddering, she did as he wanted, and he moaned loudly. She stopped just before he was about to. He frowned, grabbing her arm as she stood. "Bitch, get back down."

Trying not to show how irritated she was, she didn't reply, and instead pulled off her breastband, fiddling seductively with the edge of her skirt. The naked boy pulled her onto the bed again, harder than she expected, and yanked up her skirt, not bothering to remove it. She heard another rip, and wondered how much thread was costing at the moment as he knelt on top of her and slammed in. Closing her eyes in apparent ecstasy, she thrust in and out as the boy moaned.

Just like his father, she concluded, trying to decide how much extra she should add on for the rips.

In the end, she only added on 7 for the rips, which the boy seemed more amused by than sorry for. Senna put an arm around her as the boy and his father disappeared down the street. "We can do the rest of the night." Senna told Deeta and Anya, both sporting red marks which would be impressive bruises by the morning. About to argue, Deeta saw Anya disappear up to the second floor, where the real bedrooms were, and followed, waving goodnight to Olo and Senna.

The next morning was bright, a cold and sunny spring morning. Deeta awoke in a slightly undignified manner, tangled in her blankets and half off the pallet on the floor that was her bed. Blinking sleepily, she pulled one of her blankets over her shoulders and looked over at the bed, where Olo lay. She was still asleep, masses of black curls obscuring her face. Tiptoeing out of the room, Deeta crept down the stairs, trying not to wake anybody, and went to the kitchen. The kitchen was old even by Bree's standards, rusting and with ram-shackle furniture, but large and cold.

Anya was already up, sitting on one of the rough wooden chairs round the table and sipping some pungent smelling pennyroyal tea. Smiling at Deeta, she pointed at the stove, where a small pot of pennyroyal was simmering. Picking up her cup – a rough wooden cup that she had carved DEETA'S CUP into, the day Senna taught her how to write a little – Deeta scooped up some tea and swallowed, making a face at the bitterness. It always threw off her appetite, and she had to have it four times a day. Everyone did. It was one of Mrs Glyfoird's unbreakable rules. If you wanted to be on Witches Way, you drank the pennyroyal, regardless of how dangerous it was and how it could ruin your hopes of a child of your own. Everyone knew if you didn't drink the pennyroyal. The whole town watched as your stomach grew, and grew, because Mrs Glyfoird would have thrown you out of the house the moment you started to show.

Everyone looked worse in the daylight. That was an occupational hazard when you stayed up all night. All girls had huge smudges under their eyes, and most had pale faces. Anya looked particularly tired, and Deeta could see new bruises on her shoulders, in the shape of fat, podgy hands. She looked down at her own arms and shoulders, and saw spidery shadows tracing them down to her wrists. She winced, and went to sit on the floor next to Anya, resting her head on Anya's leg. Anya's hand wound itself through her hair, and she murmured absent-mindedly "We need to comb your hair, Dee. It's getting a bit out of control." They always agreed that she needed to do this, but somehow no one ever found the time. Olo's hair was silky and brushed through easily, falling back into its ringlets, and Senna's straight red locks were fine, as were Anya's waves of dark chestnut, but Deeta's curls were wild and tangled so easily, that no one had ever really see her with hair neat enough to pass as tidy.

They sat quietly for a while, and then Deeta roused herself to go and get dressed. She went quietly back up the stairs, and into her room, but Olo was already awake, and she could hear movement in Anya and Senna's room, so she abandoned her plan of silence and conversed quietly with Olo as she got dressed. She put on more layers than she usually did – two underskirts, her thickest tights, a vest and top under her shirt and bodice – and pulled a blanket over her shoulders as well. "Has anyone seen my cloak?" she called, looking under her pallet. "On the table!" floated Senna's voice from downstairs. She hurried down and accepted it from Senna, who was holding it in one hand and sipping pennyroyal from the other. She smiled her thanks and turned obediently so that Senna could wrap the bundle of frizz on her head into something resembling a bun. Securing it with string begged from the tailor, Senna turned her round and fastened her cloak, then smiled and nodded her on her way. Deeta grabbed the large basket that lay by the door, and set off down Witches Way. She hurried past the lower houses, waving hallos to some of the other girls who were up, and then turned left at the end of the road to get onto the main street. Passing the The Prancing Pony, which appeared to be doing a roaring trade in guests, judging from the smell of eggs and bacon inside, she joined the flow of women and girls heading towards the river to do the wash and get water. She avoided the other's eyes – Mrs Glyfoird's girls were not well thought of among the women of Bree. Deeta thought that they probably didn't know how many of their husbands and sons provided them with their business.

They had left the town now, but the path was wide and well trodden from generations of women walking it twice a day. Reaching the stream, most women tried to get as far upstream as possible. As a Glyfoird girl, the townspeople thought bad enough of her already without her trying to steal the best washing spots. Instead, he feet led her about three quarters of the way down the length of the stream that was used for washing. It was a cold enough day that there were few people around this far down the stream, so she set about the washing in peace, undoing the basket and starting on the sheets.

As usual, the water was freezing, and soon her hands were white and her fingers red from scrubbing. She had 6 sheets to do, and as she squeezed them all out and put them back in the basket, she considered the other jobs there were to do today. The washing was being taken care of, obviously, and she had to mend her bodice and underskirt. The underskirt was fine, as it was black and she already had black thread, but the bodice was red, so she would have to go and see the tailor again. Putting the last of the sheets in the basket, she started on the various undergarments. A tear in her white shirt could be mended with thread borrowed from Senna. Then she needed to do some more work on Anya's Birth-Day present – a waistcoat, made out of dark blue black velvet scavenged from one of the favourites who had an old blue dress she didn't want, and soon to be covered in embroidered stars. The only other thing that she needed to do was get some food – meat or vegetables, whatever they could get. She finished the final pair of tights and moved onto the shirts, mentally reviewing the household finances. If they bought meat, they would have to go into the forest for vegetables for a good few weeks, but if they didn't then they could afford some nice potatoes and some pretty ribbons from town. She frowned, finishing the shirts and starting the skirts. She was sick of vegetables, and usually when they bought meat they made a bit of a party of it and had some of the other girls round.

She would have to ask the others, she decided, starting on the last piece of washing. This was Olo's, although she let the others borrow it – a real corset, not just cloth with hook and eye holds, but a stiff linen corset, laced up the back and with beautiful embroidery around the eyelets. She scrubbed it gently, and added a reminder to buy some potatoes for starch. Leaning back on her heels, she shook the corset out and put it on a rock to drain for a bit. Standing, Deeta winced as her legs worked out the cramps, and examined the new muddy stains on her skirt with shivering fingers. She had knelt on the rocks, but apparently her skirt had not stayed where it was meant to. About to try and wash it, Deeta eyed the freezing water and decided better of it. Placing the corset carefully back into the washing basket, she wiped her hands on her cloak and grabbed the four buckets. Filling them two by two, she hooked them onto the stick of wood that she carried them by, then strapped the basket on by the leather straps that dug into the bruises on her shoulders. She stuck her hands on her hips and frowned at the piece of wood holding the buckets. This was the part she always hated, regardless of other factors. She strained to pull up the stick and rest it on her shoulders, but it stayed stubbornly stuck to the ground. She was just in the mood to kick over the buckets, when a quiet voice asked "Would you require assistance?"

She swivelled and her eyes met a dark haired man, dressed in the dull greens and blacks of a Ranger, and looking to be around 25 to 30 – although so often it was impossible to tell with these men. She took an involuntary step back, and then shook herself mentally. The people of Bree, respectable or not, all gossiped about the rangers, but that was no reason to be scared of them. She nodded. "Thank you."

He stepped forward and lifted the wood with ease, balancing it on the basket. She shook her shoulders to settle the straps, and nodded warily at him. "Your kindness is appreciated." she told him, using the formal address of thanks. He nodded, and moved to walk in front of her. He paused and looked back when she didn't start walking.

"You are not coming back to town?"

Startled, she caught up with him and they walked to town. She wondered if he realised that she was not the best person to be seen walking to town with, and that she would also be made the subject of even more gossip. They walked in silence up the track to Bree, Deeta feeling slightly awkward. As they reached the main road, he asked quietly, in a gravelly voice, "Are you sure I could not help this lady carry her things back home, seeing as she appears to have no sweetheart to carry them for her?"

This startled a laugh out of Deeta. She stopped and looked at the man, unsure if he was joking or not. The man looked back at her and she thought she saw a flash of a smile across his face. She smiled uncertainly back and told him frankly "I, Master Ranger, am not the girl you want to be seen helping, in case you hadn't guessed." Or, he had guessed, and was hoping to get something out of her in exchange – but looking into this man's eyes, Deeta thought (hoped) that this wasn't the case.

He shrugged. "Do you think I do not already have a reputation among the townspeople here, being who I am?" he wanted to know. "I am sure one more such aspersion upon my character will not kill me." Without waiting for an answer this time, he lifted the water carrier off the basket and rested it across his own shoulders, seeming not to notice the weight. Gratefully, Deeta rubbed the bruises on her shoulder and eyed him curiously. She decided to play this man at his own game.

"And am I to know my gallant rescuers name?" she asked.

"I go by Halite in these parts. Am I to know this noble maid's name?"

"Deeta of Bree. And where would these other parts that you hail from be, Sir Halite, where you are known by other names?"

"Why, Lady Deeta-" he grinned at her and suddenly looked younger and more mischievious "-to tell you that, we would have to spend a great deal more time together than I fear we may have. Do we turn off anywhere?"

"Oh, maggots." she said crossly, suddenly realising that they had just walked past the turning for Witches Way. "Just back here – are you laughing at me?"

"Oh, maggots?" He was laughing. "Such foul language from someone so young?"

"I'm older than my years would have it." Deeta threw back at him, turning down the final alley before Witches Way. "If you want to stop here – I understand that you may not want to follow..."

He frowned. "This is Thumble Road, is it not? Why do we turn down here?"

Deeta sighed. She had been hoping too much for a man who knew who she was to treat her with the courtesy Halite had. A foreigner in these parts – why should she have assumed that he knew her profession?

But he had not run yet, and was looking at her still, with unnervingly acute eyes. "You are awfully young, surely, to be inhabiting Thumble Road." he inquired.

"I earn my keep here on Thumble Road. I am sorry, I was under the impression you had realised who I would be." she said stiffly. "If you leave the water here I can carry it."

He looked at her a moment longer, then strode on down Witches Way. "Lady Deeta, I am sure you are still a Lady, wherever you inhabit." he called over his shoulder. Deeta stood for a second, then started laughing, and ran to catch him up. "You truly have no inhibitions about this?"

"Truly."

"Then you are a rare man indeed." Ignoring the looks she was getting from girls talking to each other over their balconies, and hanging over their washing, Deeta led Halite up the road and to the house. Senna was already hanging up the washing line outside the balcony, preparing for the washing to be hung over it, and called out a hallo as she saw Deeta walking up the street, Halite behind her. "You have a friend, Deeta?"

Smiling at her, Deeta led Halite inside and into the kitchen, which was warming up in the morning sun. Anya had thrown the creaky windows open that lined the back of the room, and she and Olo were conducting their usual daily sweep of the house, Olo singing a popular ballad of the times in her bell-like voice. Even dressed in her plain white skirts, and blue cloth bodice, Olo looked like a beautiful vision in the sunlight, singing and dancing round the kitchen like an elf. Anya joined in, humming along, and Senna's voice could be heard upstairs singing the same melody. The kitchen was flooded with sunlight, and Deeta decided that this was no bad place to be.

"If sir would be so kind as to put the water on the table?" Deeta asked him, placing the basket on the floor. "Olo, Anya, this is Halite."

Halite bowed politely. "I am delighted to meet two more such sophisticated ladies."

Anya glanced at Deeta, obviously having the same thought that she had had – what was this man out to get? Olo, however, appeared to have no such doubts, and swept into a grand curtsey, holding out imaginary skirts and sinking low enough to honour a king. "My lord," she intoned solemnly. "It is a honour to make an acquaintance with such a dignified and respected man. I hope you can bring yourself to stoop to our lowly table."

Deeta glanced at Anya, mouth quirking slightly. Anya was stifling a laugh. Halite looked slightly taken aback as Olo flourished her skirts extravagantly. There was a moment of silence, before Halite came back with "M'lady, I thank you for your generosity, for we all know that you are merely jesting, when you yourself rule these rich lands around us." He sank back into an even lower bow, hand held behind his back and a look of exaggerated humility on his face.

Both of the others burst out laughing as Halite smirked at Olo, who grinned at him. "I like your new friend, Deeta." Olo said, returning back to her cloth and starting to wipe down the table again.

"Indeed, and we can thank him for his help in bringing the water in." Deeta looked at Anya for permission, and she nodded. "And I am sure, Halite, that I speak for the household when I say that you are welcome to join us in lunch, which will be in a scant hour or less – although the fare may be slightly less than you would get at the inns."

"I would not want to impose myself -"

"Never." Anya interrupted firmly. "It would be rudeness itself to suggest that. Please, feel free to stay."

"In that case, honoured ladies, I accept with pleasure. But may I make myself useful in some fashion before we eat? These hands are not used to being idle."

"No more honoured ladies." Deeta told him firmly, pointing at the basket. "Deeta, Anya, and Olo. And we shall call you Halite and we shall all be friends." He chuckled, picking up the basket as directed. "I am happy to have such friends." She led the way upstairs and caught Senna's arm as she passed her on the way down.

"Senna, this is Halite. Halite, Senna. Halite is to be treated as any other, Senna. And you can tell all the gossips outside that as well." The two girls grinned at each other, and Senna nodded in a friendly fashion to Halite, who reciprocated in kind.

They came out onto the balcony, on the first floor. Here, each house had a line where washing could be strung to dry, and most mornings the upper half of Witches Way was white and coloured with sheets and clothes flapping in the wind. "Sheets on the left, clothes on the right, sheets can overlap, flop them over and straighten them so that there are as few creases as possible." she told Halite. "Actually – leave the skirts and shirts to me, there's a knack to hanging them." Halite picked up a sheet and started on the left, and Deeta shook out one of the skirts, rummaging in a pocket for her pegs. She basked in the sunlight as she pinned up the skirts, enjoying the cheerful feeling on the street. Always, she loved the joy that couldn't help but make itself felt when there was sun around. The whole street brightened up from the feeling of general smuttiness that pervaded it in winter, and people came out of doors, and sang, and laughed, and talked to their neighbours. Girls walking along the street called hallo, and made lewd suggestions about what Halite was doing up on the balcony, sharing a laugh with Deeta. It always surprised her how in their business, the girls could still find these things amusing, with all the innocence of a virgin maid. Halite laughed with them, talking and joking easily. She considered him out of the corner of her eye, trying to straighten one of the sheets. He was comfortable among them, and there was something about him that made them relax, and know – as she had known – that here was a man of good intentions.

"So what does a Ranger do, coming from the east?" she asked him. "Usually your people come in groups, and approach from the south."

"I had business that way." he answered, seemingly very interested in the sheet that he was hanging. "I may ask you – since we are now friends – how a girl of 14? 13? Ended up here?"

"Many round here do not know their Birth-Date, and I am one, but surely I could pass for older than 14?"

He looked at her, and quirked his lip. "Maybe with a bit more meat on you." he teased.

"And how old are you?"

"Why all the questions?"

"Why no answers?"

"Because I am a noble and lofty man who need not bother himself with a chit of a girl asking impertinent questions." he proclaimed, striking a pose and sticking his nose in the air. His dignity was somewhat ruined by a gust of wind that blew the sheet he was holding over his head. Deeta grinned and untangled him.

"May I know why you are in Bree? Business, I presume?"

"Business indeed."

"How long are you staying?"

Halite shrugged, trying to straighten the last sheet. "It depends. Both on how long my business will take me, and for how long I can afford The Prancing Pony. Mr Barliman's prices seem to have risen considerably since my last visit." he added with a frown.

Deeta nodded. "Hard times call for more money, and the inn is sorely in need of repairs to its roof – the whole town knows that."

"Well, my business should take no longer than a week, but my money may only see me through for four or less days." he admitted with a frown. "I suspect I may need to gather more funds before I attempt any new adventures, and that involves a lengthy trip home."

Deeta considered asking where home was, but knew she wouldn't get an answer. She stuffed the corset with the cloth that ensured it would dry in shape, and went to help Halite, who was still struggling with his final sheet. She straightened it and they stood on the balcony for a second, looking over the street and all the girls up and down it. "Sewing." Deeta mumbled absently.

"What?"

"Oh, I have some sewing to do before lunch. We'll go down to the kitchen and I can do it there." Retrieving the items that needed mending and the thread and needles from her room, they returned downstairs, where Senna was puzzling over the money laid on the table, Olo was practicing her writing, and Anya was already doing some of her own mending. Deeta and Halite pulled up chairs, and Halite insisted on being allowed to do some of the sewing, which he proved himself to be very handy at. They chatted idly as everyone worked about matters of no importance, and the few subtle inquiries that the other girls made about what Halite was doing were politely but firmly rebuffed. Soon, the talk turned to lunch.

"Well," Senna proclaimed, looking up from her slate, "we have enough for a good cut of meat for dinner tonight, if we are prepared to forage for food for a few weeks. Then we could have stew for lunch. Or we could not buy meat, and have plentiful supplies of vegetables for a while. And we could buy some ribbons."

Anya looked up from her own mending. "I vote for meat. We never have meat, and I'm sick of being sensible and spending sensibly. We could make a party of it. Halite could come." she added, grinning at him. Deeta nodded her agreement, and Olo waved her chalk in affirmation. Senna nodded briskly. "Who wants to buy it? Deeta, you're excused if you want, since you did the washing."

"I'll go." Anya volunteered.

"If you want help..." offered Halite, but Anya shook her head.

"Don't worry about it." She put her sewing on the table and stood. "I'll get us some more pennyroyal as well, and Senn, we could do with some more tea unless we want to miss one and have it at lunch." Senna shuddered and jumped up, going straight to the stove.

"I'll make it now, I can't stand drinking that stuff at meals."

"Pennyroyal?" Halite looked concerned as Anya went into the hall. "Why do you drink pennyroyal? Surely you know that it's a poison?"

Olo pursed her lips and looked down; Deeta avoided Halites's eyes. It was left to straight-forward Senna to explain. "You know our business, Halite." she stated plainly. "We cannot afford to beget with child. We would be thrown out, and both mother and child would die."

"You take it as a preventative measure?" Halite looked aghast. "But it could make you permanently barren – or kill you!"

Senna shrugged. "We have no choice. Pennyroyal is expensive, but it's the cheapest we can afford. The safest drugs would cost us hundreds, hundreds that we don't have. That's just the way it is."

"So every girl on this street takes regular does of pennyroyal?" Halite looked like he was squashing down fury, but a poke from Deeta and he subsided into his chair.

"We were talking about The Prancing Pony's prices." Deeta told the others, hoping to steer the conversation onto safer ground. "Halite was saying that he may have to wind his business down sooner than he expected."

Halite nodded. "My funds were not expecting to be stretched so far." he said, tying a knot in the tear he had been sewing, and starting on a new one.

Senna looked up and met Deeta and Olo's eyes, both of the younger girls making appealing faces at her. She sighed, and mouthed "Another mouth?" at them. Olo rubbed her fingers together and nodded at Halite, raising her eyebrows, and mouthing back "And he's funny!" Deeta had the feeling that although Halite was studiously concentrating on his sewing, he knew exactly what was going on around him.

Senna raised her hands in silent surrender to the pleading looks, and said "I'm sure, Halite, that if you are not bothered by nightime activities on the street, we can offer you a bedroom and lodging for a week on the top floor."

Halite looked up. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm not bothered by any business you might have to do, and I insist on contributing something to the house funds, but I don't want to be an unwanted intruder.."

Deeta shook her head. "As long as you don't mind us working, then you're welcome to stay wherever you want."

"How much would you ask for? My funds are too small for the Prancing Pony, but I will contribute as much as I can."

"Well... since it's between friends, how about 30 for the whole week?" Senna suggested, with a glance at the floorboard that the girls knew contained their moneybags underneath. Halite looked delighted.

"That is a tiny amount indeed, Senna, and I insist on 50 – I can easily afford it." he told her. "I'm not that poor!"

Senna smiled, and stuck her hand out, as a man would, to seal the deal. Not batting an eyelid, Halite shook, and so a bargain was struck. Halite disappeared to go and retrieve his bags, after assuring the girls that he could find the house again.

He did find the house again, and came back carrying a plain black bundle, and a smaller cloth wrapped around some herbs. Laying his bundle to one side, he spread the herbs on the table as the girls crowded round to look at them. "I saw them on my way back here, and wondered if you could use them for cooking."

Anya, who did most of the cooking, wrinkled her nose doubtfully, rubbing one of the herbs in her fingers. "They seem very dry. I've never seen them before, are they safe?"

"Safer than pennyroyal, and I can show you how to cook them. An old friend of mine once taught me how to make an unusually filling stew from these." His smile had a trace of nostalgia in it, but everyone was distracted as a large leg of lamb came into the room, closely followed by Anya. "Lamb!" exclaimed Deeta and Olo, gleefully and in unison.

Deeta and Olo – neither of whom had any talent at cooking, were sent to invite some of the girls from the houses around, whilst Senna, Anya and Halite scraped together some food to go with the meat. In the end, about 10 other girls accepted the invitation, and sent the two younger girls back, sometimes with a bit of extra food to go with the meal. In the end, there was quite a good crowd of them there, as the sun began to fall at 5. One of the other houses had a mandolin, and there was singing and dancing, with Halite much in demand as a partner. The food stretched to feed them all, and everyone got a bite or two of the meat, which Halite – as promised – had served with the unappetizing-looking herbs. They proved delicious, and he was much feted along with Anya and Senna as the makers of the feast. As the town bell rang half six, eventime, girls waved cheerfully goodbye and scattered out of the house, leaving their plates neatly in the sink and calling promises of help cleaning up tomorrow over their shoulders. Anya and Olo disappeared upstairs to prepare for the night's customers, but Deeta hovered at the door as Senna instructed Halite. "You can stay down here in the kitchen, or go up to your room – or me and Olo stay down here if you want to talk to us in the hall, but you'll have to stay in the hall and only in the hall. Don't go into any of the middle floor bedrooms, whatever happens, and don't talk to Anya while she's working – Anya has a reputation and it would not be good for you two to be seen together. Deeta, stop looking so nervous, I'm not throwing him out. Show him up to his room and go get ready, love."

Deeta pulled Halite up the stairs to the top, going into the room she and Olo shared, and shook her pallet out, trying to untangle her blankets at the same time. "You'll sleep here." she told him.

"Where would you sleep?"

"Me and Olo'll share. We sometimes do even when there are two beds. Now you, turn around and face the wall while we get changed."

As Deeta tried to find her night clothes, Olo told Halite cheerfully "If we had a reputation, you'd be ruining it right now, I hope you realise."

"I can still find other lodgings-"

"A jest, Halite! Dee, could you button me up?" Deeta's fingers easily slipped through the buttons, made specifically by Senna to undo and redo easily, and then she turned for Olo to do her up. "Okay, we're decent now." Halite turned back round to face them as they began to apply lip red and the black powder that made your eyes glitter and stand out. "Do you stay up here, Halite?"

"I think I may talk with Senna in the hall for a while." He accompanied them downstairs, and went into the kitchen, returning with two chairs. He set one out for Senna, who smiled at him in thanks, although she remained standing by the door, and sat on the other himself. Senna surveyed the two younger girls – Anya was already on the balcony, it seemed – and smiled fondly at them.

"Then I think we are open for business." she said, opening the door and putting on the pout that the girls knew meant it was customer time. Olo disappeared to the window, to sit and wave seductively, and Deeta made her way upstairs to the balcony, thanking the powers that the wind was not quite as bitter as it been yesterday. She could hear soft conversation from downstairs, and sat quietly, watching the slowly increasing numbers of men parading the street. As the night began to liven, she sighed, and put on a smile, leaning forward.

Halbarad woke very early that morning, stretching out the kinks in his back. He frowned, wondering how Deeta managed to sleep on the thin pallet every night, as his gaze found the two bony girls with arms wrapped round each other, tangled in the bedcovers and both still asleep, dark hollows under their eyes and blonde black curls covering the pillow. Now, faces immobile with tiredness, both girls looked far too young to be working and living like this. He guessed that they had probably only gone to bed two hours or so before, judging from the level of the sun, and he winced, remembering what they would have been doing.

Silently, he pulled a soft tunic from his pack and slipped it on over the trousers he already wore, then padded down the stairs to the kitchen. He opened the windows, which had been closed last night, and let the whitebright early morning sunlight in. Looking round, he found the single bucket of water left from the four he and Deeta had carried back yesterday, and poured it into a large pot on the stove, beginning the pile of washing up that filled the porcelain sink. Deeta. He considered her as he started to clean. He had approached her simply because she was struggling, and then seen the bruises lining her arms. He had been genuinely oblivious to her profession – indeed, it had not even passed his mind that a girl who looked so young would be allowed to work by her family. He supposed that when her family were in the same circumstances as her, there were not many other options.

But they were beautiful, friendly, lively girls, however ill-fed they were and whatever they did to earn their food. Olo – he would not be surprised if, somewhere back in her line, she had a man or woman of **numenor **as an ancestor, or even – he chuckled at the thought of the look a citizen of Rivendale would give him at this – an elf, who had inadvertently parented a child. No, fathered a child – an elleth would surely not have been able to give up her child, so it would be an elf who was completely unaware of his child. But you could see it in the way she danced and sang, that there were noble parents there. Anya was beautiful, that was for sure, but hers was a very human, earthy beauty, voluptuous and as uncertain and fleeting as humans themselves at times. Deeta had the same unearthly quality as Olo, but in her case he feared that it was all too due to underfeeding and a tendency to illness than elves.

He looked up as Senna came into the room, looking exhausted, even more so than she had the day before. She looked at him, startled, as she noticed the washing. "Halite, it's very kind of you, but I am happy to do it."

"You look exhausted." He told her frankly. "You are already feeding and lodging me, please allow me to make some small return."

She made as if to argue, and then sank down into a chair, rubbing her eyes. "Thank you."

They sat in silence for a while, before Halbarad struck up a conversation. "Deeta and Olo are very young to be working, surely?" he said, looking carefully at the washing. "And maybe you as well." He felt, rather than saw her nod and sigh.

"I started working when I was 15." she said wearily. "That was 5 years ago, and even then I was not the youngest. Deeta has been working for near four years now, some of the girls down the lower end of the street are her age as well. We have no choice. What with the things that have been happening lately, there is no way we can travel, no way we can work ourselves out of here. Mrs Glyfoird sees to that." she added with bitterness. "What other options do we have?"

Halbarad stayed quiet, having no answer to this, and Senna left her question unanswered. When he glanced at her a few minutes later, her head had slipped down to rest on her arms, and she was breathing quietly. He looked at her for a moment, red hair blazing in the sun, and realised she was dressed only in a nightgown and the thin overcoat sometimes worn with it. He shivered, wondering how she could stand the cold, and left the washing, scooping her gently up in his arms. It was shamefully easy, and he carried her up the stairs to the bedrooms. Hesitating, he made for the bedroom that he knew did not contain Deeta and Olo, and nudged the door open. The room was tiny, and mostly taken up by a wide bed, with a few bundles of girls clothing spread around the edges. Anya slept on one side of the bed, face dreamy and relaxed, so he placed Senna on the other and pulled some of the blankets gently over her. Returning downstairs, he sat dis-spiritedly at the table.

Every moment he spent here, he grew both more attached to the girls and more repulsed by their lives. He was a regular visitor to Bree, and had always been well aware of its dark side, having heard the gossip and lewd suggestions in the taverns, but never had he realised the extent of the problem. Deeta was working at _10_? And Olo could barely be older than her, a few years at most. Anya seemed to be, somehow, the most capable of this work. The times he had seen her last night, she had seemed to somehow detach herself, be a different person when she was with the men. Not like Senna. He could see in her eyes that this was burning her out, wearing down her soul – having to put prices on her friends, having to price even herself and looking after the household, working out what they could afford, with no rest at night and little at day. It hurt him to see such a beautiful girl, trodden down into the dirt because she could not afford to raise herself out of it. For she was beautiful, although by many men he knew she would be considered odd looking, with the red hair so rare in this part of the country – in most parts of Arda. But to him it shone like copper, fine and glistening, set beautifully by blue eyes, with a wash of green over them that hid to the world her tired core.

"Brooding?" Olo had come down into the kitchen, and was scrutinising him through unreadable eyes. He grinned at her, moving his thoughts away from depressing topics and greeting her a good morning.

He stayed there for exactly one week, enough time to extract the information from Butterbur that he needed, and by the time that week was over he knew that he needed to get back to Rivendale, to replenish his stores and report his findings to Elrond. He bid farewell to the girls with not a small misgiving about how they would look after themselves, and had to remind himself several times that they had managed for years on their own. They waved him off, Senna giving him a quick hug and pulling away, a blush on her cheeks. He had hoped he wasn't blushing as well, since it would have been rather undignified for a "mysterious" ranger. From the mischievous look Deeta gave him as she walked him to the edge of town, he rather thought he had been.

They reached the edge of the town sooner than he would have hoped, and he turned to face Deeta with a smile. "Thank you." he said sincerely, sweeping her into a hug and immediately regretting the rash action. But Deeta hugged him back, and when they pulled apart, told him "If you're ever in town again, whether you have the funds or not, there will always be a room – well, a bed – at our home."

He nodded, and they both looked at each other for a second before Deeta grinned and turned to walk away, calling over her shoulder "And I'll tell Senna you send your love!"

About to protest, he smiled fondly at the thin retreating back, and turned himself to begin the long hike back to Rivendale. It would take him several days to reach the border and alert the elven guards, who could get him a horse. He chanced only one glance behind him, and smiled as the defiant young girl turned a corner, out of sight.

-

So I hope you like it! Literally, a one word review of "Continue" or a two word one of "Don't Continue" are great by me. If you're feeling particularly loquacious, then feel free to give me some con crit.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next year or so, Halbarad visited Bree more often than he needed to. Soon, whenever he mentioned a trip to the town, mumbling an excuse of information needed or a longing for time among humans, Elrond's twin sons would give a shout of laughter and tease him mercilessly about what - or whom - he might be doing there, whilst their younger brother looked confused at some of their more subtle comments. The twins looked to be 17 or 18 to human eyes, although he knew that if he had measured their ages in human years they would be nearer to the hundreds of years than their looks would have it be. Their younger brother, and Halbarad's one-day leader, Estel, had only 15 years to his credit, although that was enough for him to blush at some of the lewder comments being thrown around.

Whenever he went to Bree now, he stayed with the girls, whether or not he had enough money for The Prancing Pony. They were like a very odd family, he decided, laughing at each other but loving each other all the same. Deeta and Olo, Deeta especially, had become like younger sisters to him, Anya a friend and fellow cook, and Senna...

Senna was like a best friend, a lover and a wife all at the same time, full of exciting new ideas, but safe familiarity as well, and someone he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with –although Deeta often teased him, when they were out doing jobs away from other ears, that at the rate he and Senna were admitting their feelings, one or other of them would be dead before they actually got together. It was true, he knew, because he did not have the courage to say anything to Senna.

He knew, because all of the other girls had informed him, that she was just as interested in him as he was in her, but still he could not bring himself to say, because what would she do? What would he do? Would he propose to her, and bring her back to Rivendale, leaving the other girls behind? Would he buy a house in Bree and live with her there, constantly disappearing to go on missions and work in the wild? Was it fair to marry her? To separate her from all she had ever known and abandon her every time his duty to the Line of Numenor called him? What if she didn't want to marry him? All he knew was that all he wanted to do was to get her out of Witches Way, to get all of them out there and somewhere safe, before Senna's soul was trodden down to dust by her life.

He knew that all of the girls, Senna included, laughed at his feeling of obligation to keep them safe, and all had pointed out that they had managed for years, as had most of the others on Witches Way. And yet, every time he saw them, waving merry hallos and hugging him tightly, something in him twisted.

And today, he had decided to take the first step towards doing something about the situation. He was in Rivendale, on his way to an appointment with Lord Elrond, flanked by his three curious followers begging to know what his mysterious meeting was about. It was merely to inquire about bringing a wife or lover to live permanently here at Rivendale – not that he was definitely going to do so, but just to know if such a human would be welcome would be a step. However, he was most sincerely not about to tell the three sets of inquisitive ears trailing behind him that.

"Aren't you too old to be acting like sparrows after a crumb?" he asked the question in the general direction of the twins.

"Never too old to learn something new, Hal."

"Barad! My name is hal-BARAD."

"Sure, Hal."

The twins had been the most irreverent elflings inhabiting Lorien, Rivendale and Mirkwood since they had been born, surpassed by none that Halbarad had ever known. One could only hope that their father's grave manner would rub off on them as they matured. Somehow, he doubted it. By contrast, their companion was growing up very much faster than most other humans did, although he still acted his age much of the time, with his pranks and tricks.

He reached Elrond's study door, having successfully ignored the three males, to their intense frustration, and knocked quietly. "I know you shall be listening at the door, and I intend to inform your father." he muttered to the boys, and he heard hasty feet behind him.

The solemn Lord opened the door, nodding him in and smiling. "Halbarad. Please sit."

He did, in a beautifully carved wood chair that was more comfortable than he had thought wood could be. Elrond seated himself opposite and waited, fingers together to make an arch. "You wished to discuss a matter with me, I believe?"

"Yes... Well, it is a matter, of, uh, habitation." Halbarad paused, unsure how to continue. Elrond raised his eyebrow.

"Halbarad, if you wish to move into another's quarters and out of those provided, that is that persons decision to take."

"No! No, my lord, I was wondering about the possibility of taking another into my own quarters. Someone unaccustomed to, elvish traditions."

"A human, I would presume?"

Halbarad nodded, wondering how much to say. "A woman. From Bree."

Elrond nodded, his face unreadable as he thought. It was at Lord Elrond's discretion that all rangers had rooms available to live in permanently at Rivendale, and it was his choice to decide how many rooms one got, and where they might be, and those sort of details. Halbarad tensed as he spoke.

"I have no qualms at another joining you in your apartments, and you are welcome to do so. However, I might ask... Halbarad, are you intending to take a wife?"

"Possibly, my lord."

Elrond's face softened into a look of concern. "I must ask if you have thought of the consequences? When you are away, if you are killed? What is she expecting from you?"

"I thank you for your concern, my lord, and your advice is welcomed. I have indeed been giving much thought to these matters, and this is but an inquiry."

Elrond nodded, and Halbarad knew the meeting was over. "I am happy for you to bring any back into your apartments, Halbarad. I trust your judgement in this matter."

"Thank you, my lord." Bowing, he went out of the room, and both of his arms were immediately seized by twin hands. He was steered into the gardens and plonked unceremoniously onto a bench. The twins stood in front of him, both looking mutinous. Estel sat cross-legged on the grass behind them, watching the scene with a quiet face.

"You're serious about this girl, then?" asked one of the twins. Halbarad could never tell the difference between them when they were angry.

"Yes. As I have tried to make clear to you several times."

"You want to marry her?"

"I think so."

The twins turned, looking about to walk off, and Halbarad grabbed their arms, speaking quickly. "And I would like to know why this is an issue? It will not change anything of our friendship, and indeed I would wonder why you concern yourselves with my love life?"

A twin – Elladan – turned, a burst out "Because you're Halbarad! The other rangers are all married, or take their duties far too seriously, but you have the time to play with us, and talk to us and teach us. And now you are married as well, and you will no longer wish to be with us."

Halbarad released their arms and took a step back, shocked. _"Lle lakwenien?_" he asked, slipping into their native sindarin _"Rwalaerea,_ you have been my constant companions since I first arrived here, young and weary from living for so long in the wild. You have annoyed me, you have taught me, you have loved me as a friend or a brother and cared for me when I most needed caring. Do you think that you could ever be replaced, by anyone? I love Senna. You have to accept that. But that doesn't mean I love you any less!"

Estel had moved to stand by him, and put a tentative hand on his arm. "_Diola lle_." he muttered, looking slightly embarrassed and pulling his brothers hand towards Halbarad's. "Ro n' Dan are sorry for being so selfish as well." He added something to his brothers in a flow of quenyan, which Halbarad still had only a small command of, and both of them nodded. Elrohir pulled Halbarad into a quick hug, releasing him and warning him "But you'll have to tell us everything about her!"

["Are you joking?" "Loyal ones," "Thank you."]

Halbarad grinning, following a wandering Estel into the gardens. "Why?" he asked over his shoulder, glancing at the twins behind him.

"Because!" Elladan grabbed him and pulled him down onto a grassy patch, his twin hooking their younger brother to sit on the grass with them. "For instance, how in Arda did you manage to meet her? What's she like? Does she help in The Prancing Pony?"

"No, she doesn't work in The Prancing Pony, and she's a wonderful, fun, caring person. And very sensible to boot."

"How did you meet?"

Halbarad hesistated, thinking of Deeta, who had led him to Senna, and why he had approached her. She had looked so small and young to be doing so much washing all alone, and then his eyes had caught the bruises up and down her arms and neck as she pushed a straying sleeve back up her arm, away from the water. Intending to – he did not know quite what he had intended to do – he had tried to help her, and only managed to realise the cause of the bruises was not a father or brother, but instead this girl's living.

"Well?" Elrohir pressed curiously at his silence.

"I met a friend of hers, and went to stay with that friend. Senna is one of the girls who shares a house with her."

"Who is your friend? Do we know him?"

"Her. Deeta. No, you don't know her." He looked at Estel, who had asked the question. "She's a few years younger than you, but I think you would get along well. Then Olo. She had her 18th Birth-Day just this past year, and then Senna does not know her Birth-Day. She thinks it has been 21 winters. Anya is the oldest. She has 26 years."

"4 girls, with no chaperone?" Elladan raised his eyebrows suggestively. "So you and Senna have got to know each other very well!"

Halbarad pinched the pointed tip of his ear lightly, laughing as his friend rolled over in protest. "No, Elladan. I have a higher opinion of Senna than that, as I would have hoped you thought."

"So where in Bree do they live? Have we seen their house?"

Halbarad couldn't help but smile at Estel's innocent question. "Well I certainly hope you haven't seen it, Estel, no."

"Where do they live?"

Elladan's blunt question was difficult to avoid. "Thumber Road." he muttered.

Estel nodded, satisfied with that answer, but both of the twins sat up straight, staring at Halbarad. "Thumber Road?" demanded Elrohir incredulously. "Halbarad, you can't be serious!"

He regarded the grass studiously. "Maybe." he mumbled, refusing to meet the twins' eyes.

"Halbarad, you are aware of what goes on on Thumber Road, are you not?"

Halbarad's affirming mumble could barely be heard.

"What happens on Thumber Road?" asked Estel, sitting up.

Elladan's look was one of utter contempt. "It means, dear brother, that our honourable ranger friend here is intending to marry some shameless _whore_."

It was only Elrohir's cool head and elven strength that stopped Halbarad leaping at Elladan then, as his arms were pinned down and Estel grabbed Elladan's fists, pleading with him to calm down. "You will _never, ever_ talk about Senna like that ever again, Elladan Elrondion Peredhil, or we shall no longer be acquaintances." Halbarad snarled at the elf, abandoning his attempt to struggle free of Elrohir's arms.

Elrohir's next sentence, in Quenyan, was so clear and cutting that even Halbarad understood it. _"Brother, you bring shame and dishonour to our family by refusing to accept a friend and guests' choice. Whether you do this deliberately or not, whether it is out of concern for a friend or not, that language is not worthy of the name Peredhil._"

Elladan looked slightly ashamed of himself after his brothers retort, and Estel was wide-eyed, having never heard his brothers argue like this. Shaking Estel's hand gently off his, Elladan bowed formally. "I apologise, Halbarad. I spoke without thinking and permitted myself to insult a personal decision."

"Apology accepted." Halbarad said, sitting back down, unwilling to get into another argument with a close friend. Elladan asked quietly "Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"

"Yes!" Halbarad exclaimed in frustration. "I don't know how to say it, I can't put it properly but if you met them you'd understand, if you met Senna. She's not a – a _whore_. She's doing a job she hates because it's the only way she and her friends can scrape a living, and what with that witch who runs the street, they barely have that!"

"Well then let us meet them."

"I... What?" Halbarad had not expected this.

"Let us meet her." Elrohir repeated calmly. "Take us to Bree, and let us meet her. Them."

"Will your father let you?"

"We're grown elves, Hal!" Elladan laughed at him. "And Ada will be happy to let Estel out if it is only to Bree and back."

"Fine! Yes! Come! And you'll understand what I mean." Halbarad gave up trying to think sensibly and stalked off, calling grumpily over his shoulder "If you do come, I leave tomorrow at a chime past dawn."

The next morning, Halbarad appeared, half a chime early, at Rivendale's gate, half hoping that he would be so early as to miss his would-be companions. Instead, Estel and the twins stood with packs and four horses, looking annoyingly awake. Halbarad eyed the horses tetchily as he drew up beside them. "I usually walk." he informed them.

"But this way we'll get there so much quicker!" Elrohir was a morning person. Halbarad was not.

They rode in silence for the first hour, and began to make more conversation as the sun rose higher in the sky. They reached Bree at about midday, leaving the horses hidden in a clearing just below Weathertop. The twins put on large black cloaks with hoods, and Estel and Halbarad put on their Ranger cloaks – Halbarad his own, and Estel one "borrowed" from a washing line.

They made their way through town, keeping their heads down, and Halbarad led them down the side road. Estel and the twins were looking round in fascination, none of them having been to Bree in the recent years. Halbarad was also slightly worried. The town was bustling, even more so than usual, but not with the usual cheerful voices. Instead people hurried home, heads down, and with worried looks on their faces. He stopped an older woman walking past with her daughter, and asked politely "I'm sorry, but we're new in town, has there been a problem?"

"Well, no' fo' us, but thems as lives down tha' way." She spoke in a broad Hobbiton accent, gesturing the way that Halbarad was headed. "There's been a red pox ou'break down there."

"Red pox!" The woman nodded gravely, already moving onwards. Halbarad sprang forward, desperate to reach the house, but he had no sooner turned the corner than he met with a barrier stationed across the road.

"Sorry sir, no passing." a guard informed him. "Quarantine. Red Pox down tha' way, didn't you hear?"

An arm looped through both of his arms, and a voice murmured in elvish accented Common "He heard." Elrohir and Elladan tugged him around and through a back street, before he had time to protest and try and force his way through. "Halbarad, you can't go in, you'll get the pox." Elladan whispered to him urgently, as they reached a deserted street. They stopped, and Elladan took back his hood, revealing his pointed ears and dark, elven braided hair. He seemed especially incongruous in the muddy surroundings, with his ethereal beauty and perfect features. "Halbarad, be sensible!"

"I will not." Halbarad whispered, feeling a cold steal through him. "I am going to get them out. I know it's not fair to the others, I know it may not be what they want, but I _will not let them die_ in this _filth_."

The twins sighed, as one, and turned to Estel. "Estel, you _will_ go back and stay with the horses. Please, just this once, don't argue. You are too important to die of some human disease and we don't have the time to argue."

Looking furious, Estel disappeared down the street, and Elrohir offered Halbarad his back. Halbarad didn't attempt to object, climbing onto Elrohir's back willingly. They had done this many times in pranks and raids on the kitchens, and it was the fastest way to get up onto the roofs of the surrounding houses. Clinging to the tiniest gaps, the twins scaled along the walls like vines, walking along peaks and soon reaching the required street. "What house, Hal?" Elladan whispered.

"Up... Up... There, with the chair on the balcony!"

The twins clambered down, to end up in the tiny garden of the girl's house. Halbarad, even in his frantic worry over the girls, could not help to notice the looks passed between the twins at the ramshackle house. He scrambled for the key that always lay, hidden, by the back door, and let himself and the twins in, calling "Senna?" softly. The kitchen was empty, a pan of water heating on the stove. He headed straight upstairs. "Deeta? Olo? Anya?"

"Halite!"

Anya appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in the plainest white cotton dress he had ever seen her in, and looking fraught and bony. "Halite, they're ill, and I don't know what to do – I can't get out to get food or medicine, and someone stole our supplies – oh!"

Elladan and Elrohir had appeared on the stairs behind Halbarad, both uncloaked and with their ears obvious. "They're friends of mine, Anya – how ill?"

"I don't know! Olo was the one who knew the most about healing, and she went first, 10 days ago."

Halbarad pushed open the door of the room that Deeta and Olo shared, and found all three of the girls in there. Anya was gabbling behind him, looking over-tired and nervous. "I put them in one room so I could stay with all of them, but they're so hot, I tried sweating the fever out..." Her voice trailed off as Elladan and Elrohir came through the door, both heading straight to Deeta and Olo on the bed, whilst Halbarad checked Senna's vitals, on auto, feeling completely and utterly apart from the situation. Anya backed into a corner, tears forming in her eyes, as Elrohir let loose a string of elvish curse words in a soft voice. He spoke in Sindarin to his twin and Halbarad, strong fingers tryng to find a pulse on Deeta's wrist, which looked like a child of 7 or 8 next to his. _"The fever burns off body fat, but they have no body fat to burn off. Halbarad, they are not going to survive unless we can get more fluid into them, and we need Ada to do that, none of us yet have the experience."_

Halbarad felt a twinge of pain and realised he had bitten through his lip. Ignoring the blood, he stroked Senna's hair gently, knowing the truth of what Elrohir had said. He looked at Anya. "Anya, if they are to survive, we must get them to my home. There are healers there. It is a five hour ride, four at a run. Will you come?" He did not mention that he had every intention of taking them, with or without permission, but Anya had already nodded and was pulling together a few clothes into the wicker washing basket he had first seen Deeta with. He gathered Senna up into his arms, but Elrohir had a different idea. He had swept Deeta up in a sheet and tied the sheet securely to his back, letting the youngest girl settle. Anya hurried back into the room, the basket full, and Elladan grabbed that from her arms, fixing it to his own back. She cried out, reached to take it back, but Halbarad touched her arm, calling "Anya, we have to hurry. Elrohir will carry you." There was no time for Anya to object, and she was swept into Elrohir's arms. She looked terrified as he climbed out of the window, but stayed silent as the three men walked carefully across the rooftops, considerably slower with their new and precious burdens. Elladan led them on a longer route, staying on the roofs until the very edge of town and then leading them in a sprint to the trees. Hurrying to where the horses were, they called to Estel, who had the horses ready. Halbarad propped Senna in front of him, swinging her legs over to the left and letting her head rest on his shoulder, and looked over to the others. Elrohir had passed Deeta, the smallest, up to Estel, and she was resting sidesaddle as Senna was on Halbarad. Elladan passed Olo to his twin, and turned to Anya, who still looked to be in shock. "Can you ride?" he asked gently, and she started at his accented Common.

"Yes, a little, but..."

"No time for buts. I will help you." He lifted her bodily into the saddle and leaped up after her, holding the reins in one hand and her waist in the other, and looked at the others. "Ride fast, but ride carefully." he warned, leading off.

That day, Halbarad could not have expressed in words his gratefulness for the elven horses and their speed and agility. They reached Rivendale as the sun was lowering in the sky, muscles aching and battered, but with their charges intact. As they rode, Halbarad had heard feverish murmurs coming from Deeta, propped on Estels shoulder, and Estel looked as stressed and fraught as Anya. As they clattered into the courtyard, elves surrounded them, crying out in Common and Sindarin, and reaching out to take their mounts, the girls, to help them down. Senna was taken from his arms as he blinked round, still half in a trance from the endless riding, and he called out for her as other arms led him away, and he was taken to a white room and soft hands helped him into a soft bed and then something went over his mouth and he breathed and it was all black.

-

This chapter done! Sorry, it's a little shorter than the first one. Again, a one word review is welcomed, or even just an add to Story Alert – I'll take that as "I like it and want to read more."

Disclaimer; (Includes previous chapter and any later chapters) If you knew it before you read it, it wasn't me.


	3. Chapter 3

When Halbarad awoke, he was in a white room that he immediately recognised as Rivendale's infirmary. It didn't matter that he could only see the high ceiling – he had been here enough times to identify the room by the chip where some of the plaster had been cracked off when someone (not him, of course) had thrown a dagger in frustration and missed his target slightly. He groaned as a splitting headache made itself very prominent, and a hand seized his. "Halbarad!" It was Elrohir, his face relieved and joyous. "_Mellon nin,_ do you have to insist on nearly getting yourself killed every time you leave home?"

He struggled to sit up on his pillows, and Elrohir rushed to help him. "But why," he replied, grinning painfully at one of his best friends, "it would hardly be an adventure then, would it?"

Elrohir poked him, laughing, and his twin appeared in the large arched doorway at one end of the airy room. "The sleeping dunce awakens!"

"Shhh!" An elleth poked her head round the room divider and frowned at Elladan's jubilant cry. "We do have other patients, m'lord."

He looked sheepish as he hugged Halbarad fiercely, and Halbarad decided not to ask how Elrohir had informed his twin of Halbarad's re-awakening so fast. "Where are Estel and the girls?"

"Estel is just returning from lunch. You both got a touch of fever from the girls, but since you're both healthier than them anyway, Ada gave you both one of his revitalising herbs, and you're fine. Estel was asleep for one night and woke up this morning. It's the middle of the afternoon now, you woke up later because of "stress and over-tiredness"." Elladan explained, plopping onto the bed in a manner most undignified for an elf of his stature. Halbarad looking across the large room to the divider, on the other side of which he knew the female patients were tended to. "The girls are all there, Anya as well." Elladan had noticed his look.

"And?"

Elrohir, the more medical (and, Halbarad suspected, slightly more alert when their father had told them this), twin took over. "Anya's just tired and over-wrought from having been about 8 days with no sleep, as far as she could tell anyone. She's been looking after the others single-handedly, it seems like Witc – Thumber Road was hit first and hardest by this stupid pox. That one with the black curls, that looks a bit noble – Oro? – should pull through, although I think Adar might want to have a few, _words_ with you about how much all of them have been eating. Your Senna looks good at the moment. Unless she gets another infection before she's fully recovered, she should be absolutely fine."

"And... Dee?"

"Dee? She is the smallest, yes?"

"Deeta. She's only got 14 or so years. Maybe more, maybe less."

The look exchanged between the twins told him more than he needed to know, and it felt like he'd swallowed ice. "Deeta is fine? She must be! She is very strong, she must be-"

"Halbarad! Calm! She is in a private room, and she has not yet passed to the Valar." Elrohir twisted his mouth. "The problem is, though, is that she is so _much_ thinner than the others, and so young. She has not had a kind life, this human child."

Halbarad sank back into his pillows, his headache reminding him viciously that he had not yet taken notice of it. "No."

"Adar has got as much fluid into her as he can, but there is a limit to what he can do. She needs food, to put it simply, and she needs to be awake for enough food to be given to her." Elrohir shrugged helplessly. "We do not know how it will go with the Small One."

The elleth who had told Elladan off earlier came round the wooden divider, holding a business-like beaker of clear liquid. She gave it to Halbarad to drink, and he downed it in one, wincing at the bitter taste, but grateful for the immediate relief it provided from his headache. He looked at the elleth – Adara, an unusual name, something along the lines of woman-father, was the name she used amongst casual acquaintances. "May I stray to the other side of the infirmary? I promise to return right away if my friends are sleeping."

She looked at him, then sighed and said "Your worry there is misplaced. Two of them are awake already, and doing themselves no good by being scared stiff of me and every other Eldar who tries to step foot in the room."

"Is that an invitation for me to go and explain things to them?"

"It might be. If your friends could not let you _over-exert_ yourself." She eyed Elladan and Elrohir pointedly, and they leaped hastily to their feet, helping Halbarad up. He shook off their hands once he was standing, ignoring Adara's roll of the eyes, and hurried over to the other side of the room.

It looked much the same as the male side of the room, white and bright, with rows of beds on either side of the room. However, unlike the other side of the room, 4 of the beds were occupied – one by a sleeping, heavily pregnant woman who Halbarad recognised as a wife of a fellow ranger, Tomas, and the other three by Senna, Anya and Olo. "Halite!"

The cry came from Anya, huddled beneath pristine white sheets, with Olo in the bed next to her, face turned towards him. He glanced at Senna's prone form, on a bed opposite them, but went over there immediately, hugging them both. Olo, normally so brash and confident, wouldn't let go of his hand, and so he pulled the girl up to lean on him, his arm round her comfortingly. "Hal, where are we?" she asked, shrinking into him even more as Elladan and Elrohir came round the divider. The twins, good at dealing with awkward situations with scared humans, came and sat on the floor in between Anya and Olo's bed, looking for all the world like a pair of kids hiding from parents at bedtime. They stayed quiet, waiting for Halbarad to speak.

"I... I've got a few things I need to explain to you." he began awkwardly. "Starting with – well, Halite's not my real name."

"We never figured it was." Olo spoke up from under his arm. "You're a ranger. Everyone knows they use fake names in Bree."

"I'm called Halbarad. I live here, in Rivendale."

Anya didn't bat an eyelid at the name, only looked around, but Olo gasped. "The place where the elves live! But they have elven horses here, and the buildings are made of stone that never falls, and there's an elf with golden hair who beat the fire demon and came back from the dead!"

She blushed as the twins and Halbarad looked at her, bemused. "Who told you of Rivendale and Glorfindal?" Elrohir asked kindly, his Sindarin accented words sounding odd after Olo's excited Bree tones.

She looked down, scared. "I... I don't know. My mother?"

Anya frowned. "Olo, you came to us at four and remembered nothing of your family except what happened in your dreams."

"Maybe the word Rivendale awoke an old memory." suggested Elladan. "What are the dreams?"

Olo was trying to hide behind Halbarad, so Anya explained. "When I first came to the house, I was 7 with nowhere else to go. The girls working there looked after me, gave me food and a place to stay, and let me use a bed. There were three of them, then one... left, when I was 12 so we had a spare bed. I found Olo and her mother at a village in the woods, where I got pennyroyal to sell to Mrs Glyfiord – there had been an attack by some raiders, looking for food. Half the village was dead, most others injured, and all the children were dead, starving, or killed for..." Anya shuddered, and continued. "Olo's mama had a stomach wound. She was just outside the village when I found her, and she shoved this tiny four year old at me, and muttered something about oloran, or olorin or something."

At the word Olorin, Halbarad glanced at the twins out of the corner of his eye, and saw they had both registered what he had – Olo's grace, beauty, and now her mother telling Anya something with the word Olorin in? Olorin was Sindarin for _dreams_, an old-fashioned phrase commonly used by minstrels in romantic songs, and also – much more rarely – when an elven child was orphaned or abandoned. ____________. Take the heart of my dreams and live for me._

Anya was oblivious to any of this, and continued, reaching a hand across the gap between the beds to hold Olo's, who was still huddled into Halbarad. "So I took the child and ran back, because I was scared of seeing the village, and she got the spare bed, and we called her Olo because I couldn't work out what the woman had been saying. She will wake up in the night, thinking that she is back in the village and the orcs are coming."

An unspoken agreement between the twins and Halbarad mean that no one mentioned the Sindarin blessing. Instead Olo asked into Halbarad's side "Will the elves let us stay here?"

"Of course we will" exclaimed Elladan. "You think we would simply abandon you? I am Elladan." he held his hand out to Anya, who, after a moment's hesitation, shook it with a small smile, and then did the same to Olo. Elrohir had to rise to his knees to reach the girls. "I am Elrohir." his Common was good, but Elladan had by far the best accent and Elrohir sounded distinctly odd. Olo gasped as Elrohir shook Anya's hand.

"You are twins!"

"Very annoying twins." Halbarad informed her. "Don't be surprised if they act like 10 year old humans. Personally I think their father mixed them up with some other twins at birth, and somewhere out there are two, respectable, handsome, mature elves who have been brought up as humans by mistake."

"We are handsome!" twin voices protested; and Olo laughed as she shook Elrohir's hand. "Very handsome, m'lords."

"You'll get over it when you meet some more elves." Halbarad pointed out. "And people will laugh at you if you call these two elflings lords. You can call them by their names, they don't bite hard."

The atmosphere relaxed as the twins began questioning Olo and Anya on parts of human life, tactfully breaking the ice and leaving Halbarad free to cross the other side of the room, to the bed where Senna lay, still asleep. He took her hand and sat next to her, biting his lip at her still-too-pale and still-too-thin figure. He brushed a piece of red hair off her cheek, forcing his mind from questions of life and death and fixing Elrohir's previous words in his mind. _"Your Senna looks good at the moment... she should be absolutely fine."_

Anya's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You should braid her hair."

He looked up. "What?"

"You should braid her hair." she repeated. She stood at the end of Senna's bed, supported by Elrohir. "She loves plaits. She would be dying of envy if she could see Elrohir's. Surely you know how to do them?"

"Well, yes... You are sure that she would like them? She would not mind such a gesture?" It was an honour among most of the peoples of Arda that Halbarad had met, and usually only done between family or lovers.

Anya nodded and smiled at him. "You must do the twisted thing that the other elf had on her head." She turned and Elrohir helped her back to her bed, leaving Halbarad considering. He stood, and pulled Elladan's comb – which, as usual, was readily available in Elladan's tunic pocket. Ignoring Elladan's cry of protest, he sat back on the side of Senna's bed, and then rested her head on a pillow on his knees, so that he could begin.

He combed her hair until it looked like a waterfall, for near an hour, and then lost himself in the gentle braiding, his fingers repeating the pattern again and again, slowly weaving the braids into a circle round Senna's head, pulling her hair back from her face and then letting it fall back gently. He must have been there for two, three, four hours before a touch on his arm roused him. It was Adara. She smiled at him. "She needs to be left in peace, now. You may do some more braiding later. Would you not like to go to your young friend?"

Deeta! Guilt overcame him as he realised that he had not even thought of Deeta. He rose, settling Senna gently back onto the bed, and brushed his lips to her cheek after a moment's hesitation, the first time he had ever done so. Slipping out of the room, he left the others still talking and hurried to the private rooms just along the corridor. Fate was smiling on him for once, and the first door that he looked around contained a room with a tiny, obviously human figure half drowned in a huge soft duvet. Estel stood next to her, looking down at the figure which could only be Deeta. He glanced up as Halbarad entered the room.

"How is she?" Halbarad whispered, hurrying to the bed. He closed his eyes and turned away when he saw Deeta's face, thinner than he had ever seen it – cheekbones like knives, fat gone that she couldn't afford to lose, and the mass of frizzy hair that they had all laughed at together spread over the pillows, seeming almost larger than the girl herself. She looked young, younger than he had seen her. Estel didn't reply.

He sank onto a stool by the side of the bed, grabbing Deeta's hand and gripping it tightly, as though by holding it she would be unable to leave her body and join the Valar. Estel was staring blankly at her face. "She told me, Hal." he whispered bleakly.

"What?" asked Halbarad, not really listening.

"I... Everything." The misery of Estel's voice came through the fuzz surrounding Halbarad's senses, and he looked up.

"Estel? What is it?"

The boy shook his head miserably. "The whispers, Hal. She had nightmares, dreams, horrible dreams."

Halbarad remembered the feverish mutterings that had come from Deeta as they rode to Rivendale. "Estel, what did she say?"

"It was her _Adar_." He looked at Halbarad with unseeing eyes. "And her brothers. And then men came with knives, and hit her and tore her hair, and her father sold her or sent her away or something, and she was alone in the dark and no one came for her."

"Estel, it was but a dream." he told him soothingly, refusing to accept the new information. Surely the Valar would not let so many bad things happen to just one person, he told himself, but in his heart he knew otherwise and shrank to think of it. His eyes went back to Deeta's face. He realised that unlike the others, she hadn't been washed, but he supposed that the healer would not want her to lose valuable body heat in the process of cleaning her. Her hair was still as matted and frizzy and messy as ever, and he wondered what she would look like clean. Estel sat opposite him, drawing up a stool in silence.

The two of them stayed there, each lost in their own thoughts, until Lord Elrond swept into the room, looking tired and holding a bundle of reeds and some liquid. Halbarad leapt up respectfully, and Estel hurried to his father's side, looking like a little child again as he clung to his fathers arm. "You must go now, both of you." the Lord said softly. "Both of you need to sleep. You will not like to see this and you are both tired."

Halbarad was about to protest, but one look at Lord Elrond's face told him that he was not in the mood to compromise. Estel had already left, not without an uncomfortable look at Deeta.

They walked back to the hospital wing together, and Adara rushed them back into bed. There was silence from the other side of the room divider, so Halbarad assumed that all the girls were asleep, and the twins had left. He and Estel were the only inhabitants of the male side of this room, and soon both were fast asleep.

As was usual when he came back from excursions, Halbarad slept for much of the next few days, spending the rest of the time with the girls or Deeta. Senna awoke the next day, and the first thing he did was to kiss her full on the lips and then ask her if she would like to marry him. No date for the ceremony had yet been decided, but both of them were putting off their decision until they had more news on Deeta, although neither of them acknowledged it. After the next night, Halbarad was declared well enough to move back into his own apartments, but the girls stayed in the hospital wing, whilst rooms were being sorted out and changes finalised. Senna would stay with the others until the ceremony had taken place. Deeta still slept, but Halbarad half dared to hope that she was gaining some weight, however slowly.

Elladan was the one that explained to Olo the significance of the words she had been given away with. Word of this had got out among Rivendale, and many times Halbarad would pass elves in the corridors or at the dinner tables discussing what she might be. Theories ranged from a full blooded elf to a half elf, who had had her ears cut off. Halbarad knew that both of these theories were incorrect – Olo looked nothing like a full-blooded elf, and had no scars on her ears. He tended towards the school of thought that her mother had been a half elf, and that Olo was a quarter elven. The evidence could be read to support this, because Olo's mother had lived long enough to give her child away, even with a stomach wound. Any Ranger you asked had seen a stomach wound – they were frighteningly easy to receive – and any Ranger you asked could tell you that the life expectancy of someone with a stomach wound was minutes. They had explained all of this to Olo, as well as the fact that they couldn't know for sure right now, and possibly never would. She had taken it in her stride, and seemed to be working on the basis that since at the moment they had no idea, she should continue behaving as a human.

One of the first things they had done was to introduce the girls to some more elves, slowly, and trying not to frighten them. Elladan persuaded some of the quieter maids to visit, to sit and talk with the girls and tell them a few things about Rivendale. Two of them – Nica and Laure, took the girls under their wing somewhat, and as the days went past found them dresses and helped them bathe, things that the boys could not do. Anya and Olo were the first up, and Halbarad was firmly told by Laure that he had to come with them to get the girl's dresses, to keep them calm. He accompanied them grumpily to the tailors rooms, and sat down on a chair with his arms crossed. They had chosen to come at lunch, Nica having asked the tailor specially, so that there were few other elves around.

-

Sorry it's so short and ends at such an awkward place, but I'm suffering from minor writer's block on this one. Any advice, thoughts on where the plot should go next etc, go for it!


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